


Basking in Moonlight

by lildogie



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Bulges and Nooks, Established Relationship, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Recuperacoon Sex, Sleepy Sex, Xeno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-12
Updated: 2014-01-12
Packaged: 2018-01-08 11:57:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1132365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lildogie/pseuds/lildogie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sleepy Karkat welcomes Gamzee back to the hive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Basking in Moonlight

You're dreaming something quiet and pastel-hued when the sopor around you rises, lifting your lax body and pulling your consciousness back just far enough to realize that Gamzee has lowered himself into the recuperacoon behind you.  Your eyes remain closed; you're not really awake, just perceiving a different world than a moment ago.  Here, your body is warm and loose, limbs heavy with fatigue and the relief of sleep.  His arms fold around you, pulling you through the slime against the long plane of his body.  You move like a doll, incapable of tension, simply flowing as if you were a liquid, yourself.

 

He's cold; he's been outside.  The difference in temperature sends a frisson over your skin—not a shiver, just a tingle.  Your head lolls back onto his shoulder.  You'd tell him, "Welcome back," but you're still asleep.

 

He isn't, yet, poor pitiful troll.  He should join you, but maybe he's too cold, yet, from how he clings to you, wraps his chilled limbs around yours.  That's fine.  You've got warmth to spare, and you're not the coldblood; you can make more.  You raise your chin, nuzzle his jaw.  "Take whatever you need," you'd tell him, if you were awake enough, "whatever I can do for you while I'm not quite here."

 

Hands slide over your stomach, your sides.  Your head rolls on his shoulder.  You want to slip back into sleep, but his touch feels good; you can wait a bit.  Lips press against your throat, then a tongue.  Ooh.  If he wants to get more heat out of you, it's working.

 

" _Karkat_ ," he whispers, low and urgent, breath cool, prickling against your skin.

 

You butt him very gently with a horn to let him know you heard, but he's insistent, speaks your name again in that voice that makes your skin flush.  You struggle to push your voice through the haze.  "Mmawake," you lie.

 

He latches onto your neck, sucking where your sluggish pulse beats sopor-slow, as if he were a rainbow drinker, only it's the heat he wants, and you're happy to provide.  He whines softly, plaintively, working your grub scar with one hand, the other straying down one thigh, raising your pulse and your temperature.  Poor thing.  He's still so cold.

 

"Warmer inside," you murmur.

 

He kisses your cheek, making small, soft noises as he parts your legs, strokes your nook until your bulge emerges.  His coils against your thigh, slightly warmer than the rest of him, but still pitiably cold in the warm sopor.

 

"Karkat," he rumbles.

 

You're already so relaxed, there's no reason to wait.  "I want you," you whisper.  "Yes."

 

The long, low moan he utters as he enters you is exquisite, almost better than the penetration itself.  He holds you so tightly, so preciously as his bulge slowly fills you up.  It's better than the sopor lassitude, being wound up in his arms and legs and gradually invaded by the sense of him.  He's thick and long, so that each inch of him presses against every available nerve.  Little veins of pleasure thread through you from those points, your core turning on even though the rest of you is shut down.

 

You give a little mewl as he seats himself inside you, your nook pulsating around him.  Gamzee touches your cheek, turns your face to kiss you softly, so softly, as he begins to move.

 

You haven't the energy to participate, and in a more lucid state you'd be ashamed of the sheer decadence of it, floating here, almost inanimate, letting him pour pleasure into you like you're pouring heat into him, just soaking up everything he gives you, basking in his attention like moonlight.

 

His hand around your bulge makes you tighten, and you arch against him.  You chirp to let him know it's good, you like it, keep going; it's all you can manage.  He holds you steady as he strokes you, and your nook clenches around his bulge till you can feel every contour of it, every ridge as it moves in and out of you.

 

The whimper you hear is his.  Gamzee's face is pressed tightly to your neck, his arm around your chest tense, but he maintains that slow, dreamy pace, letting you stay in your trance even as your nook convulses and your bulge jerks between his fingers, releasing your material in a hot cloud.

 

You try to murmur encouragement for him, soft sounds as he continues to push into your lax body.  He _is_ warmer now, you realize with fuzzy pride.  His legs, his hands, his lips, and his bulge are closing in on your temperature.

 

"You're so good," you mumble, slurring words together with a careless tongue.  "So good, Gamzee.  I pity you.  I love you."

 

His hand clenches on your hip and he gives one sharp cry.

 

You groan as lukewarm material pulses into you, swelling your material sac enough to round your abdomen, sending another shudder of pleasure through you, making your nook flutter, which makes Gamzee sob. 

 

You knock your forehead against his cheek and purr consolingly.  You'd like to put your arms around some part of him, but you can't, you honestly can't move, you're so tired.  Which is all right, because he clings to you, nuzzling your face, your hair, still buried inside you, as he comes down.

 

"Better?" you ask.

 

He nods against your head.

 

"Sleep?" you murmur.

 

"Mm-hm."

 

"Love you," you say.

 

The tension finally fades from his arms, and he begins to purr.  "Flushed for you, brother."

 

His bulge is slowly softening inside you, but hasn't yet retracted, leaving you sort of stoppered, well and truly entangled.  That'll be gone by the time you wake up, but you still have the pressure of his material in your sac.  You think you'll sleep with that, let your material mix thoroughly before you fill a pail in the evening.  You smile muzzily.

 

Gamzee relaxes around you piece by piece, but doesn't let go.  In the knowledge that he'll follow you soon, you phase back into dreams.


End file.
